


Crouch, Bind, Set

by dollseyes



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Concussions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23204158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollseyes/pseuds/dollseyes
Summary: Caleb gets a concussion playing rugby. Adam is visiting for the weekend.
Relationships: Adam Hayes/Caleb Michaels
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	Crouch, Bind, Set

_ Crouch! _

As the sir yells the call in his booming voice, Caleb shifts his weight back and feels Short Stan bind onto his shorts, tugging him into their hooker, a rookie player named Tim. He makes eye contact with the prop across from him. The Ox, as Caleb has taken to calling him in his head, is one of the largest men Caleb has ever seen, a good six inches taller than Caleb, and probably with another hundred pounds on that bulky frame. Caleb isn’t a small guy, and he can give as good as he gets.

_ Bind! _

The Ox’s arm slams down on Caleb’s back, grabbing his jersey as Caleb does the same, gritting his teeth against his mouthguard. There’s no point to that kind of gruffness. Pure aggression rolls off the Ox’s body, suffocating Caleb’s senses. It makes it difficult to sense his teammates beside him. Short is easy to latch onto. He was in Caleb’s rookie class. Another football player turned to rugby in college. When the team paired off for drills, they were natural partners. So Caleb latches onto that, tries to ignore the nerves rolling off of Tim. His first time starting, afraid to blow it. Caleb can’t have that now, not on top of the fear from the sidelines from -

_ Set! _

He feels the full weight of the Ox as he leans into him and Caleb slides his feet back into ready position, putting his own weight into the other side of the scrum. Caleb grunts. He can feel Short’s head pressed between his leg and Tim’s as their scrummie, Ben makes the call. It’s moments like these when rugby feels like what Caleb was  _ made for _ . All sixteen forwards, eight from each team engaged in one sole purpose. His team’s emotions meld into one color as the ball rolls into the tunnel and Tim hooks it back towards their team with his foot. That’s when Caleb knows they’re going to win this scrum. You don’t have to be an empath to feel the way they click together. The other team, is a flurry of frustration and anger and aggression and disappointment. And aggression. So much aggression.

_ AND - DRIVE! _

Poe, the forwards captain, has the voice of a drill sergeant. So when his yells for them to drive, they move in sync, easily driving back against the other team, who is now standing too straight to have any actual power in their steps. The opposing frustration builds as they drive again, and again. Then Ben pulls the ball from the back of the scrum and sends it out to the back lines and the scrum is dissolving but before Caleb can get fully out, he feels an elbow drive down into his shoulder. The force sends him to the ground and he pulls Tim down with him before he can unbind and when he looks up, he sees the Ox hobbling away.

It doesn’t take long to tell that the other team relies on the Ox’s bulk way more than they should. All of their plays seem to center on him breaking the line with brute force. Which is an especially poor choice considering the fact that he gets winded after every play he participates in and spends the next couple minutes recovering.

In a couple phases, Caleb faces the Ox again and uses the other player’s bulk against him. He is, in no way nimble, but he can do a basic quick step to throw the mountain of a man off of him and slide around, breaking the line and passing it to Poe who brings it in for a try. He’s in the midst of reveling in the achievement when a rolling wave of resentment hits him. It’s amplified by the fact that its directed at him. He doesn’t even have to look around to find the source. The Ox’s face is bright red with exertion and embarrassment. Caleb has made a fool of him and now he’s out for blood.

_ shit _

It doesn’t take long for the Ox to find an outlet for his deep well of aggression.

The ball is in Caleb’s hands and he looks up to see the Ox charging in a diagonal towards him. He has plenty of time to pass it to Short who is off to his right waiting. But if he does it too early, the Ox will just hit Short, or Tim who is running behind him.

So Caleb holds it.

Short calls for it, claiming there’s space out wide, but Caleb holds it.

Tim calls for the pass, but he’ll get crushed, so Caleb holds it.

Caleb can see the Ox bearing down on him, but he knows his own timing, knows that he can wait just a bit longer, so he holds it.

He’s nearly on top of him when Caleb flicks the ball over to Short who cuts in behind the Ox and through the gaping hole in the defensive line the Ox had made in his ill-planned charge. Short passes it off to Tim in front of the full back and Tim runs it into the try zone unopposed.

The other players crowd Tim, slapping him on the back. His first career try. Hopefully one of many. Tim grins with the force of a thousand suns at the praise.

  
  
  


Caleb sees none of this.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Instead he stares up at the sun between the clouds, at the light swinging back and forth. It seems so bright, bright enough to hurt his eyes.

  
  


Someone is saying his name, then two someones. A whistle blows, far away, and then again closer.

  
  


Faces crowd above him in worry until Poe, with his drill sergeant voice, yells at them. He sees the athletic trainer appear above him.

  
  


None of that really matters because Adam is hovering above him in a red and white knit hat that reads “Terriers” on it. He is worried. Beyond worried. Is there a word for beyond worried? If there is, Adam is that.

  
  
  
  


The trainer is talking to him and for a moment it doesn’t process that he has been asked a question.

“Come again?”

  
  
  


“What’s your name?”

“Caleb.”

  
  


“Last name?”

  
  


“Michaels.”

  
  
  


“What day is it?”

“Saturday.”

  
  
  


“Where are you?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


************************

Adam doesn’t care that he’s not supposed to be on the field. The bigger guy who tackled Caleb had gotten up and jogged off to meet up with his teammates in a huddle behind the goal posts, but Caleb is still lying on the ground, staring up at the sky. Nothing could keep him from crossing the painted lines on the field and rushing to the other side.

Caleb’s teammates, Poe and Ben are there, keeping the others back.

Adam vaguely remembers them from the other times he had come in the past three years and Poe lets him stay by Caleb while the other players are getting ushered away. Ben, a trained EMT, stays to help, kneeling beside Caleb.

Caleb’s eyes aren’t dilating correctly. They shake and quiver when he tries to focus. He can’t follow the trainer’s finger without turning his head.

Adam doesn’t need to see the worry on Ben’s face to know it’s not good. He doesn’t need to see it. But he does see it, and it curls itself around his own knot of worry. Because Ben has actually had to pay attention when people tell him about head injuries. Any information Adam has was gained through pure osmosis through his parents.

He has to watch Poe and Ben take Caleb off the field. It barely registers in his mind that he is holding Caleb’s disgusting mouthguard in his hand.

With Caleb settled, Ben pulls Adam aside.

“Keep him awake. No matter what. Get him to drink water. If he vomits, immediately tell the trainer and call an ambulance.”

Adam nods.

Ben squeezes his shoulder, and gets back on the field, calling for a sub.

Adam is shell shocked by the way the game just keeps on going. As though nothing happened or changed. As though there’s not a chance that Caleb’s brains are scrambled inside his skull. As though the guy who didn’t isn’t still standing on the field. As though the warning the referee gave would actually change anything.

He thinks back to Ben’s advice.

_ If he vomits, call an ambulance. _

Well he couldn’t do that. Because then Caleb would end up in a hospital. A normal hospital.

He fishes his phone from his pocket. Dead. He had used it for directions for the drive that morning. It shouldn’t have been an issue because he wasn’t supposed to need it during the game. He could just plug it in afterwards at Caleb’s apartment.

Damn it.

He crouches next to Caleb, whose eyes are still tracking the ball on the field.

“I need to use your phone.”

“It’s in my bag,” Caleb replies. Which is probably one of the least helpful things he could have said. Because the team had decided to buy matching bags a year before. So half the team has the exact same athletic bookbag. Adam rifles through the piles of identical red bags that are scattered along the fence. Adam almost gives up and goes to ask someone else when he sees it: a keychain that used to be blue with white letters. Now the ribbon looks like dirty water and the brown-tinted letters read Y LE.

It was one of the ten billion little pieces of school merch that Adam had received from the school upon his acceptance. Not that they needed to feed his already overwhelming horde of school spiritwear.

The bag smells awful. Worse than Caleb’s football bag had ever smelled. At least Mrs Michaels had cleaned the football bag. Caleb apparently had no sense of smell. But Adam dug around in the bag and finds it at the bottom, a film of dirt layered on the screen in a crust. Adam wipes it down his shirt and unlocks it with his thumb. He’s greeted to a picture of them from Adam’s academic fraternity formal. It’s goofier than the one Caleb posted online. Caleb’s got his arm wrapped around Adam’s neck, face pressed into the side of Adam’s head. Adam’s face is scrunched from the tickle of the stupid bit of scruff Caleb had insisted on that month.

The image distracts him for too long before he punches his mother’s number in.

She picks up after two rings.

“Caleb?”

“It’s Adam. Do you know any atypical doctors in Boston? Preferably neuro.”

His mother pauses in thought.

“Dr. Zellinger has a practice in the city. I’ll give her a call.”

“Thanks.”

“Keep him awake.”

“I know, mom.”

He hangs up and almost immediately receives a text from his mother, who in Caleb’s phone is inexplicably, “Dr. Mrs. Adam’s Mom”. 

Adam sits down next to Caleb on the sideline.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m fine.”

The fogginess seems to have disappeared. He is not slurring his words.

“That’s good.”

Adam isn’t sure what else to say, what to ask that hasn’t been asked.

“I should be back on the field.”

“No. You should be here.”

“They need me.”

“They’re fine. You’re injured. You’d only make it worse.”

Caleb frowns.

“You’re scared.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m scared.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s...it’s okay Caleb.”

“I’m tired.”

“Can you wait?”

Caleb gives him a sloppy grin.

“Anything for you.”

Adam doesn’t know if the team won or lost. As soon as the game is over and the other members of the team are shaking hands, Ben comes over, grabs his car keys and gestures for them to follow him. Adam hands the keys to Caleb’s car over to Poe who promises to drop it off in front of Caleb’s apartment.

Ben doesn’t question when Adam requests that he takes them to the address his mother sent to Caleb’s phone. 

Dr. Zellinger is expecting them as they walk into her office. She asks them if the team has records of Caleb’s baseline concussion testing. Ben nods and goes off to make a call to ask for the numbers and Adam is left alone in the lobby as Dr. Zellinger leads Caleb off to the back.

He stares at the vague diagrams of brains that hang on the walls next to general health and safety posters.

For some reason, Adam believed Caleb when he told him that rugby was safer than football.

“Yeah, as soon as you put a helmet on a guy’s head, his head becomes a battering ram. So rugby is safer without the helmets.”

Ben returns with a series of numbers written on a scrap of paper which he hands to the receptionist. He’s still wearing his jersey and he smells like crap.

“I’m sorry your weekend ended up like this,” he offers. “I know Caleb was really looking forward to it.”

“Caleb mentioned it?” Adam doesn’t know why he was surprised. Of course he knew Caleb was excited, but talking with his teammates about it?

“Yeah, he talks about you all the time. I think I know more about you than I do about my brother’s wife, and they’ve been married for five years.”

Adam smiles, despite himself, imagining Caleb with his big gestures and open face gushing about him to his teammates.

“He talks about you guys too. How you’re like a second family to him.”

It was true. Caleb had nothing but positive things to say about his teammates and it almost made Adam wish he played a team sport. Nothing like forced exercise to bond a group of people.

After that, they just chat for a while about Caleb, about school and Boston and Philadelphia where Ben grew up and it’s all a very nice distraction to keep Adam replaying the earlier events over and over in his head.

Eventually Caleb comes back out and grins at Adam.

“Guess who got a mild concussion?” Caleb asks and then points his thumbs toward himself.

Adam can’t help but laugh at his antics. At least he seems more clear now than he did a little while ago.

Dr. Zellinger is not as amused.

“You need to keep yourself safe. And you need to stay off the field for two months. Minimum.”

This last bit she directs towards Ben who nods.

“Very well. You all are free to go. Caleb, I gave you my contact information. Feel free to reach out if there is any change in your symptoms. Also I will be reaching out for regular updates.”

Caleb waves a little card and nods.

“Bye Doctor Z.”

She sighs and watches them leave.

After getting back from the doctor, Caleb had been approved for a nap, which he readily took, after Adam forced him to take a shower.

Now Adam is enveloped in the scent of the Old Spice three in one that Caleb insists on using, despite the fact that Adam has told him countless times that his body and hair require different products.

Adam nestles into it because, despite his disapproval, it also smells like Caleb.

“Hey, wanna hear something funny?”

Adam glances at Caleb whose eyes are just barely open.

“Sure.”

“So on the concussion test thing there was this shape section right? And you have to remember which shapes you’ve seen.”

“Okay.”

“And one of them looked like you.”

Adam laughs.

“What? How?”

Caleb traces a pattern in the air. It’s a loop, with the tails on the bottom and a flat top.

“That’s just a line! How could it look like me?”

Caleb laughs.

“Do you remember when you got really into Hamilton in high school?”

“Yes?” Adam laughs at the memory. He and Caitlin had a competition to see who could memorize the most lines.

“Well I took a picture of you doing the French guy’s bit right?”

“Lafayette?”

“Yeah sure, and in the picture you had your arms crossed across your body in like a rapper’s pose. And the shape looked like that.”

Adam buried his face into Caleb’s chest.

“Oh my gooooood. That’s so embarassing.”

“No, it was really cute. You were  _ so  _ into it. And when I saw the shape, I remembered it because of you.”

Adam lifts his head to look at Caleb who has his neck pinched to look at Adam. The pillow behind him is wet from his shower and he’s wearing a Yale tshirt and his face is soft and smiling.

Adam doesn’t love that Caleb got a concussion, but he does love that he gets to spend the day curled up in bed with his boyfriend.

Maybe it’s just because he loves Caleb.

Caleb seems to have a similar thought.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Dork.”

“Meathead.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi if you have anything you want to say, drop a comment below.  
> If you're looking for me elsewhere I'm finistfalcon on tumblr and finistfalcon#9038 on discord.  
> Cheers.


End file.
